


Symbolism

by smilebackwards



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Planet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilebackwards/pseuds/smilebackwards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just typical that the exact moment they walk through the ‘gate, the natives are performing some sort of ritual around it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbolism

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://sg-flyboys.livejournal.com/profile)[**sg_flyboys**](http://sg-flyboys.livejournal.com/) ficathon

Cam reads the Atlantis mission reports with almost the same level of fervor he’d previously reserved for the original SG-1’s reports, so when the expedition is shafted back to Earth by the Ancients he’s a little upset. On the other hand, he figures this way he’ll get to meet some of the command crew in person.

Except that’s not what happens. McKay gets sent over to Area 51 pretty much immediately. Weir never turns up around the base.

Sheppard apparently spends most of his time trapped in the science labs working with any of the tech the Ancients let the expedition keep. Cam’s heard stories that the lone puddlejumper the Atlantis mission brought back to the SGC won’t so much as twitch for the scientists studying it if Sheppard isn’t in the room. And whenever Cam sees Sheppard walking the corridors, he’s blocked off by Atlantis Marines, protective.

Cam can understand that.

Sheppard was a last minute add-on to the Atlantis mission, given clearance only because of his strong expression of the ATA gene, and slotted in as Sumner’s 2IC with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Everyone expected him to be the weak link in the chain of command. The fact that Sheppard defied their low expectations so completely, rose up and ran an entire base of Marines in another galaxy with a ruthless efficiency, is something that Cam really respects. He wants to say, _hey man, you did an amazing job_ and _you’re kind of one of my heroes_ and _tell me about the time_ , see if Sheppard’s slumped shoulders straighten out.

So when Carter ends up stuck working with McKay on something important at Area 51 for a few days and Sheppard gets rotated into the empty position on SG-1 for the mission to P8X-577 Cam’s pretty pleased.

-

It’s just typical that the exact moment they walk through the ‘gate, the natives are performing some sort of ritual around it.

Jackson’s eyes flick around with interest, taking in the bright woven clothing and the paintbrush-like instruments some of the natives are holding. He gestures down to their feet, and Cam finds that the stone dais SG-1 is standing on is covered in fresh, wet paint shaping out foreign symbols. Jackson’s brow furrows and he points to one of the glyphs, done in a cheerful yellow. “That looks like the Africanni character for light. Specifically, a light to ward off darkness,” he says.

Cam’s reply ends up being, “Ow!” because one of the natives has just stepped over and jabbed him in the arm with a fricking _spear_.

Sheppard and Teal’c immediately turn their weapons on the man, who looks frightened, but also like he wants to jab Cam again, harder, and more in the region of his heart.

Jackson glances down at Cam’s boots and then up at his face. “You’re standing on the character that represents evil,” he says quietly, taking off his bandana and tying it tight around the deep cut on Cam’s arm.

“Great,” Cam sighs. “That’s just fantastic.”

Jackson is trying to do his anthropology thing and get the natives to let them go back through the Stargate peacefully, when Sheppard shifts to better cover him and steps on a blood red glyph that looks vaguely like a pine tree but apparently means _go crazy and attack anyone who steps on this_ to the native populace.

Cam really wants to avoid killing these people, who are clearly freaked out and probably believe SG-1 are demons from the Circle of Hell or whatever they think the Stargate is, so he fires his P-90 into the air instead of the crowd and shouts, “Run!”

He figures the team can regroup and make it back through the ‘gate when the immediate area has been vacated by randomly violent natives. He doesn’t figure on getting tackled to the ground by three priests or Sheppard taking some sort of ceremonial rock to the head. Out of the corner of his eye that’s not pressed into the dirt, he sees Jackson and Teal’c make it to the tree line. That’s something anyway.

-

The natives confiscate Cam and Sheppard’s guns and march them down a well-beaten forest track at spear-point. Sheppard staggers and weaves a bit from the headshot he took so Cam loops an arm over his shoulder to keep him steady and straight.

After a few miles, the thick trees drop away revealing a clearing populated by short wooden huts with more of the symbols that got them into this painted on the sides. A man in flowing blue robes comes out of one of the larger huts which is covered in so many overlapping glyphs it looks like a mosaic. Frowning, he takes in Cam and Sheppard and the multitude of spears pointed in their direction.

One of the men begins to explain and Cam doesn’t like the alarm that flashes across the chief’s face before he and Sheppard are herded away into a circle of stones. Black ash is the only other thing inside the circle, and Cam is a little worried about the implication of being put in a fire pit even though there is no fire presently. Their captors tie thick cords around their wrists and press them to their knees before leaving to go consult with the chief.

“So,” Sheppard says conversationally, “How are we coming along on the escape plan?”

Looking around at the perimeter of stone-faced sentries, Cam’s not feeling his trademark optimism at the moment. “This entire place is surrounded by guards! And those spears are really sharp,” Cam winces, pressing his hand against the wound on his arm. Blood has soaked clear through the makeshift bandage.

“There’s one potential escape route with no guards,” Sheppard says, jerking his head to the left.

Cam follows the motion to the lip of a cliff. “Are you kidding? We’ll never survive that!”

“Nonsense,” Sheppard replies. “You’re only saying that because no one ever has.”

“Did you just quote _The Princess Bride_ at me?” Cam asks incredulously. “You seriously think that’s convincing?”

“There’s a lot of wisdom in _The Princess Bride_ ,” Sheppard argues. His voice stays sardonic, but his eyes go flat. “I mean, look what happened when we got involved in a land war in Asia.”

Cam’s not going to touch that. He shakes his head and says, “No way, man. Jackson and Teal’c are out there somewhere planning a rescue. I’d rather be alive when they find us.”

This is, of course, when the native chief raises his voice to a shout and cries, “The sun has reached its zenith! It is time for the servants of evil to be put to death!” Cam is officially renaming this place Planet Bad Timing.

“Yeah,” Sheppard says, “I think that’s our cue.” He’s already on his feet, stepping through the forced circle of his arms so his bound hands are in front of him instead of behind his back. Cam pushes to his feet and does the same, ignoring the flash of pain from his arm.

“Are you sure about this?” Cam asks, eyeing the cliff warily. Granted, there are homicidal, spear-wielding natives on one side of them, but the sharp drop on the other side doesn’t really look all that much more appealing.

“There could be water beneath it to break our fall,” Sheppard says easily, but sounding unconvinced. He starts running toward the cliff regardless, and Cam pretty much has to follow. A spear flashes past his head and almost clips Sheppard’s heel. Cam jumps with his eyes closed and feels the empty air rush past him, smooth as silk against his face. At least if he dies, he’ll die flying.

As it turns out, there _is_ water beneath the cliff, so instead of dying on impact or getting impaled on a tree, Cam gets plunged into a freezing, fast-moving river and swept inexorably downstream. Leg-kicking to the surface, Cam gasps for air and cranes his neck trying to catch a glimpse of Sheppard. He gets dragged under twice more before he finally sees the drab green of BDUs about twenty feet ahead of him.

After an indeterminate time of being thrown into rocks mid-stream and choking on alien river water that he’s probably going to be coughing up for days, Cam washes up on a strip of rocky sand feeling like he’s been put through the laundry cycle on heavy. When he finds the strength to open his eyes, Sheppard is sitting beside him, calmly wringing out his t-shirt.

“Told you it would work,” Sheppard smiles and Cam kind of wants to kill him except that, in the strict sense, the plan _did_ work, and Sheppard’s got a cut above his left eye that Cam wants to smooth away. His hair looks exactly the same as it did before they jumped off a cliff and got dragged three miles down a river. Also, the fact that he’s smiling and not wearing a shirt is screwing with Cam’s concentration.

Mercifully, a moment later, Sheppard slips his shirt back on and produces a sharp rock from a pocket. He saws at the leather bindings still around Cam’s wrists until the material splits. Cam flexes his wrists thankfully and sits up.

“We should actually be pretty close to the Stargate. The river swept us back in the opposite direction the natives dragged us,” Sheppard says a little smugly, like he honestly planned this. He smiles and gives Cam a hand up.

Cam’s pretty good with a compass, and less than an hour later the Stargate looms up in front of them, welcoming. Cam punches in Earth’s address enthusiastically while Sheppard drags his boot through the still-drying paint on the stone dais spitefully, in retaliation for the complete lack of hospitality.

-

When Cam and Sheppard stagger back through the wormhole, Jackson and Teal’c are standing with SG-5 and SG-9, clearly gearing up for a rescue mission. They look completely unruffled, which just makes the fact that Cam is bone tired, bleeding, and soaked to the skin that much more embarrassing.

He and Sheppard get shipped off to the infirmary straightaway to get toweled off and patched up.

“So,” Cam says, watching Sheppard shift an icepack from the back of his head to his left eye, “You probably don’t want to go on any more missions with us.”

Sheppard leans back on the hospital bed, the long line of his body relaxed and soft. “I don’t know,” he replies, smirking. “That was pretty good for a first time.”

 


End file.
